BY HENRY J. CARR, _Librarian Scranton (Pa.) Public Library_.
In your presence, and in addressing you to-night as presiding officer, I
feel to a far greater extent than I can express in words the high honor
that has been conferred in each instance upon all who from time to time
have been chosen to serve as a president of this particular association.
There is in this present age, to be sure, no lack of those popular and
peculiar entities termed associations--associations of many kinds, and
for almost every conceivable purpose. Throughout the entire continent
there exist few, perhaps none, whose history, objects, and work, have
warranted a more justifiable pride in being a member thereof, than is
found in being a member of the American Library Association.
It may here be said that conditions and circumstances have been
favorable to the success of the A. L. A.; not the least of which has
been the faithful loyalty of its individual members. We realize, too,
that even time has dealt leniently with it, upon noting that of the 64
members who attended its first meeting, held at Philadelphia twenty-five
years ago, but 18 have died, and that 20 persons are yet included in its
membership list out of the 69 who joined the association in 1876, that
initial year. Some of that original number, much to our gratification,
are present with us at this 23d general meeting.
Considering its purely voluntary nature, the migratory holding of its
successive meetings in different parts of the land, and the notable
avoidance of fads, or any tendency towards selfish ends that might
otherwise mark its united efforts, it becomes almost a matter of
surprise that so many persons have unfalteringly kept up their
allegiance from year to year ever since the time of their joining the
association. But, as a matter of fact, the A. L. A. has at no time
fallen off in its total membership; and at this date it numbers nearly
one thousand contributing members paying dues for the current year.
The American Library Association has now attained a period of
twenty-five years in its history--a quarter of a century. During that
time, in the addresses given at its general meetings, as well as in the
multiplicity of noteworthy and valuable papers contributed to its
Proceedings, and the sundry publications devoted to library interests,
it would appear as if there must have been presented almost every
conceivable phase of library thought and sentiment. Can anything new be
said, or old ideas placed in a new light, so as to be worthy of hearing
and attention at this time? I fear not, except as some lessons may be
drawn from the experience of one's past work, perhaps, that shall serve
to aid yet others who are to tread like paths in life.
I beg, therefore, that you will bear with me for a short space of time
while I give expression to some thoughts drawn from the experience of
myself and others while Being a Librarian.
Without now restricting their application to particular phases of
librarianship, let us at the outset consider them as relating to any and
all conditions of it as a vocation. "Why did you take up library work?"
is a question not infrequently asked. To that query various answer may
be given, according to the individual views of the persons replying.
Perhaps one general reason, that in a certain way has had its
unconscious influence upon many of us, is best stated in the following
characteristic passage from the "Book-hunter:"
"To every man of our Saxon race endowed with full health and strength,
there is committed the custody of a restless demon, for which he is
doomed to find ceaseless excitement, either in honest work, or some less
profitable or more mischievous occupation. Countless have been the
projects of man to open up for this fiend fields of exertion great
enough for the absorption of its tireless energies, and none of them is
more hopeful than the great world of books, if the demon is docile
enough to be coaxed into it."
Since Burton's day the "great world of books" has taken on many phases
of which he never dreamed. And we, as librarians, may reasonably believe
that if not entirely a part and parcel of it, we are nevertheless called
upon to deal with that "world" in almost every form, and are ourselves
more or less important factors in it. We may not be called upon to adopt
the "strenuous life," or seek to impart it to the conduct and activities
of others. But necessarily we are and must be accustomed to "doing
things"; and, by that very doing, will in some degree, each in our own
field, inspire and influence others also.
Furthermore, do we not find _our_ "restless demon of work" more
agreeably inclined and contentedly occupied in the library field than in
other lines of life which we may have previously entered into? I, for
one, certainly think so, even though we may not have had that idea in
mind at the outset, or when making the change. And, too, that we derive
a certain feeling of encouragement akin to inspiration, that in itself
renders _us_ contented and happy, when responding to the varied demands
on our time and energy that are entailed by our positions as librarians.
That is half the battle, the rest being but a question of persistence in
the application of means and ability.
Therefore, in the consoling words of one of Elbert Hubbard's salient
sayings: "Blessed is that man who has found his work."
It is not the purpose of these present remarks to set forth particularly
the compensations in a librarian's work; neither the advantages or
disadvantages, the opportunities or drawbacks therein. Those factors
have all been frequently and well discussed in prior years, by some of
our well-known associates and various contributors to library
literature. I desire, rather, to suggest some features and relationships
connected with our work as a profession, from which an occasional lesson
may be taken, and possibly a word of encouragement, if such be needed.
First of all, is librarianship a profession? Does it possess the
characteristics that make it such; and is that work more nearly
professional than otherwise, which lies at its hands to be done? Some
such queries were propounded to me by the president of a state library
association one day last fall, as we were journeying together to an
annual meeting. He, himself, had been a teacher and an educational
administrator for a number of years before becoming a librarian; and of
the recognized professional standing of his _former_ occupation there
could be no doubt.
My first, and off-hand, answer was to the effect that librarianship
certainly has many professional features, even though its being a true
and undoubted profession in every respect might be disputed now and
then. Going further into this question of professional status, however,
it will be found that the literature of views and discussions thereon,
pro and con, is by no means small. For one of us to now express a doubt
that librarianship, as a whole, is a profession, would be almost
presumptuous; and I, for one, do not propose to do so. My thesis, so far
as it relates to the present remarks, is in affirmation of the claim;
not only that it is a profession--our profession--but really the
profession of professions!
All other professions now depend to a considerable extent upon that of
the librarian for the custodianship of their literature, without whose
care much of it might be lost. We may not be able to transmit to future
eras such enduring records of antiquity as has been done by the
librarian of old in his collection of clay tablets (which now serve to
tell us of the affairs of mankind as transacted thousands of years ago),
but it is certain that we are doing our part towards making modern
literature available in disseminating it, and in preserving it as far as
lies in our power.
Cotemporaneous with the organization of this association Melvil Dewey
made the following decided and well-supported assertion: "The time has
at last come when a librarian, may, without assumption, speak of his
occupation as a profession." I cite Mr. Dewey's words, not as
necessarily conclusive, but because he has ever been an active and
constant supporter of that doctrine in both his work as a librarian, as
a noted stimulator of the library movement, and as an originator of
professional instruction of other librarians. Similar enthusiastic and
persistent efforts on the part of librarians generally may do much
towards the furtherance of such features, and the consequent development
of librarianship as a profession in all its aspects.
Let us now consider for a few moments some features of resemblance and
diversity between the library profession and others quite as well or
better known. It has been said that the library exists chiefly for the
use of its patrons, and that the librarian is necessarily and
essentially a servant. Therefore the librarian must, of equal necessity,
earn a livelihood or receive compensation of some kind for his services.
All of which, in the main, is true of the professions generally, as will
be seen from a brief statement of circumstances.
Doctors, lawyers, accountants, engineers, artists, etc., are engaged by
and receive pay from their respective clients. The clergy are supported
by contributions of their church members or from denominational
resources. Teachers in the public schools are paid from public taxes,
while those of private schools, or endowed institutions, receive their
compensation from various sources.
The clergy and teachers, as a rule, like most librarians, no matter how
willing or how well qualified, are under the further necessity of
obtaining a "call," or position, as a prerequisite to the exercise of
their professional faculties. In that respect they are at a disadvantage
in comparison with those practitioners in the other professions, already
named, who can go to any locality, solicit clients and seek business
opportunities, with reasonable assurance of obtaining both according to
place and the circumstances of supply and demand.
In some of the professions, both the so-called "learned" and the
practical ones, there have been developed certain well recognized
differentiations and specializations of professional work. Those lines
have usually been taken up in response to what has seemed a reasonable
demand for them; and in their exercise have not unfrequently brought
both reputation and corresponding remuneration to the specialists.
Possibly the time has arrived for doing much more of that nature in the
library profession than has yet been customary. And there are those
among us, possessing a due amount of working experience coupled with
knowledge of other and allied affairs, who might now do well to devote
themselves to some special features of library enterprise as a matter of
desirable business opportunity. Some from the library schools, and a few
others, have gone out as "organizers," and found more or less of a field
for the exercise of their limited special qualifications. The field
ought to be a growing one, it would seem, if recourse to incompetent aid
is carefully avoided.
But the offices of "consulting librarianship," while possessing many
desirable and much needed features, do not appear to be practised as a
specific function. Something of the kind has been urged in past years,
to be sure, and several well-known librarians did undertake at different
times to supply such services. Sooner or later, however, each one was
persuaded into a more certain, or better compensated, and permanent,
position of local librarianship, and thereupon abandoned that special
line of work.
In this era of the establishment of so many new libraries, small and
great, and of the gift of hundreds of buildings for such purposes, there
is a decided need for the effective services which a consulting
librarian might render; and this to a greater extent than is yet fully
understood or appreciated. Lacking such, some librarians and more
library trustees work too often at a disadvantage. Many more, too, are
burdened with repeated calls for information which more properly ought
to be obtained from an independent expert; one so situated as to take an
unbiased view of circumstances and equally able to give advice best
suited to the particular case in hand. Serious mistakes are sometimes
made in the preliminary details of new library enterprises that might
be just as easily avoided by the employment of a competent and paid
professional adviser.
Turning now to another side of our subject, and considering the relation
of the individual librarians rather than of the profession as a class, a
few words upon personal actions may not be out of place. A librarian's
position is usually of a public or semi-public nature; ability for its
duties is implied; and the compensation received is for present services
as a rule, rather than as a reward of merit. In order that the library
shall perform all that is expected of it, not only in being to some
extent an ever-running machine but equally in respect to its recognized
higher functions, there must be the application of watchful care,
constant attention, foresight, and unremitting work. The direction of
all of which, and perhaps much of its actual execution, must depend upon
the person placed in charge of the institution as its librarian.
It is true that, having a well-trained body of assistants, a library may
be able to run on for a time in the prolonged absence of, or when
lacking, a chief; because impetus and the effects of past direction are
not lost at once, provided that no demoralization has taken place. But
it is not a safe policy to allow a library, or other working institution
that depends largely upon the work of trained employees for its
effectiveness, to go long at a time without the presence and oversight
of an actual and capable head.
Yet it does not follow that the working hours of chief librarians should
be absorbed in attending to innumerable and trivial items of detail
which might be delegated to and done quite as well, or better, by their
assistants. Not only is "genius a capacity for evading hard work," as
has been said, but one of the proper duties of the executive of a
library is to obtain the best results possible from the respective
capacities of those through whom the library does its work. All of which
should imply the exercise of a kindly and broad-minded disposition
towards one's assistants, just as truly as of respect and obedience to
one's superiors, or of courtesy and suavity in dealing with customers
and the public. It may be only human for one to desire to be that "king
of his world," of whom Carlyle speaks; but any policy which reduces the
assistants to mere machines is not a true professional one, since it
tends to rob the library world of talent which is needed and, except for
such repression, might be developed and brought forward.
On the other hand I might plead no less for corresponding loyalty and
fidelity on the part of all library workers, both to their respective
chiefs and the institutions that employ them. As a matter of fact,
however, action of that kind is the prevailing practice in this country,
with hardly an exception, and that phase needs no extended discussion. A
chief is, of course, entitled to credit for acts done by subordinates at
his direction and for which he is responsible. But chiefs, in turn, can
well afford to give recognition to the ability and deeds of their
assistants, and will seldom, if ever, lose by doing so.
There are one or two other features of librarianship which merit passing
mention. Among them are what may be termed library succession, or the
librarian's duty to his successor. Some few librarians "die in the
harness"; while quite as many more change from one place to another at
times. Occasionally they are succeeded by those who come new into the
work; and, gaining experience, become a credit to the profession.
Advancement of those trained in smaller libraries to places in larger
ones, or from the position of assistant in a library to the head
thereof, has also brought forward quite as many more of those whose
progress we watch with cordial interest.
Although conscious of those facts, and of the inevitable changes and
successions that must occur from year to year, do we recognize our duty
to our successor? I have asked the question, but its consideration must
be left to some future time and opportunity.
Impartiality in enforcing rules, and in dispensing the privileges of the
library to all comers, should be deemed an important feature of
librarianship, quite as essential to the welfare of the institution as
to the professional success of the librarian. And this suggests a query,
which has before now been raised, as to how far librarians should go in
aiding persons who expect to use information obtained at the library,
solely for the furtherance of personal interests or for purposes of
pecuniary profit. Impartial and confidential treatment of all readers
and seekers, who come to the library after information, would appear to
be the only safe practice and criterion, regardless of their particular
motives. Care should be taken, of course, to assist them in gaining the
desired information by means of their own study, and in their own way,
rather than through the efforts of library employees applied to
searching out the exact and final facts for them.
In conclusion, I would direct your attention very briefly to yet another
side of librarianship which ought to have an occasional bearing so far
as ethical principles may apply.
Since we regard librarianship as a profession it would seem that there
must needs be some recognized principles of an ethical nature relating
to it. Like many of our working methods, however, they must probably
exist chiefly as "unwritten laws." It is always a difficult matter to
put our ideals into words. They may be quite real to the sensibilities
and yet hardly admit of being formulated. And, too, the evident contrast
between the ideals aimed at, and the results attained, is often so great
that one hesitates to say in so many words just what is his ideal.
Still there have been developed in the other leading professions, those
that are regarded as the most reputable and noteworthy, certain
recognized principles which serve to guide their members in many ways.
The full comprehension of such principles as an authoritative guide
tends to a correct measurement of the real value of one's professional
work. Likewise, while supplying certain ideals at the outset, they may
aid in determining the lines of effort and action which will tend to
elevate the profession itself and to the attainment of individual
success in its pursuits.
Perhaps it is too soon in the history of so young a profession to expect
very much in the nature of such formulations. To properly enumerate and
determine the essential principles must call for the attention of many
minds, working each in their own channel but aimed in the same general
direction, until the final outcome shall be a fully developed and
rounded code of library ethics which will thus be entitled to and gain
well deserved recognition and observance.
If, in the views and various thoughts, which I have presumed to set
forth at this time, such ideas as have a bearing on this last named
topic shall serve as hints to spur on some abler and more
philosophically versed person or persons to undertake the task, or serve
as a ground upon which to build a foundation code, I shall be greatly
pleased.